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​​II. About dazzling flashes and nocturnal delights: an inception (1/2)

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Distorted disco lights flickered and flashed across the nightclub Luca waded through in a frantic search for an inebriated Patrick. The night unfolded in a disarray of broken fragments of manic conversations, none aligning. He willed his memory to stitch the hours since leaving the theater into a linear timeline, but it kept breaking into the debris of terrible decisions, frustrated accusations, and misguided inputs all bouncing inside his head. He took a sip of his drink, worry clanging in his head, so loud despite the music punching the air with beats, despite the eyes of women on him, despite the heat between bodies.

In an instant, all of it disappeared.

Hollywood’s face shimmered in the bright lights, and his body swirled in a dance to the sounds of Lady Gaga, a lithe body wrapped in a snow-white vest and black trousers, unrestricted in a spectrum of motion drawing others around him close. Luca let himself admire the freedom in his movement, free from all the eyes on him; his face drowned in sound, eyes closed, lips mouthing the words with a smile.

Discomfited, Luca looked away and tried to locate his friend again.

The abrupt pang of disquiet was batted away with another drink he took outside into the London winter. Alcohol quieted his head a little, throat burning in the way he liked, satisfying in its discomfort. Luca moved through the flocks of smokers, stopping at each vaguely familiar face to inquire about Patrick’s whereabouts, but none of his colleagues had seen him. He took out the last cigarette he had haggled and placed it between his lips, its feel always reassuring.

Without warning, there he was again. To his wonderment, he was walking straight towards him with a confident stride, leather boots clopping against the slippery cobblestones.